He began to unbutton his shirt, keeping his gaze on her, knowing he couldn’t ask her to undress him their first time; it would be awkward for her since they’d never been together. But that would come later.
She stopped in front of him, only a foot away, glancing to the fire at her left.
“Isn’t it a bit warm, sir?”
He frowned, suppressing a chuckle. “I hope so.”
She looked into his eyes, then glanced down to his fingers as he pulled the bottom of his shirt from his trousers and began to remove it.
Hugging herself tightly, she whispered, “Perhaps I should lie down on the bed.”
“The bed?” he repeated. “No, my darling, Lottie. I want you here, for now.”
Her brows creased faintly and she took a step away from him. He reacted by reaching out and grabbing the tied sash at her waist, easily tugging her against him.
She gasped in surprise, but before she could speak, he brought his mouth down hard on hers.
Colin could hardly contain the passion within as it threatened to explode from just the slightest feel of her lips pressed to his. He deepened the kiss immediately, encouraging her to follow his lead as he brought one hand around to cup her head, lacing his fingers through her soft hair. Lifting her hands, she gingerly rested them on his shoulders as she started kissing him back, moving her mouth against his in growing abandonment.
Her compliance ignited him. Of all the women he’d known in his thirty-six years, desire had never felt like this, and he relished it, savoring each second as she gradually succumbed to the fire.
With a muffled groan from low in his throat, he pulled the satin sash at her waist until it loosened a bit and her robe fell open for him. For the tiniest slip of a second, he thought she might reach down instinctively to close it again so he quickly moved his lips to brush them across her cheek and neck, to gently tug her earlobe in an effort to make her pulse race, her skin tingle—to make her forget the details and succumb to the hunger.
She closed her eyes, leaning her head back to give him access, losing all reason as she moaned very softly and pressed herself against his warm, delicate touch, her hips grazing the firmness of his erection just enough to push him closer toward a blissful insanity.
Her hot fingertips kneaded his shoulders and he inhaled sharply though his teeth, deciding he couldn’t wait a moment longer to disrobe her and view her intimately.
“Let me see you,” he urged in a raspy murmur, pulling back just far enough to lightly grasp the edges of the silk at her neck.
Her lashes fluttered up and she gazed into his eyes. “Wha—what?”
“Take the robe off, Charlotte,” he repeated, resting a thumb on her very moist mouth. “I want to see you.”
Embarrassment—or something like it—sent a shiver of uncertainty through her and she shot a fast glance to the enormous bed, then lowered her gaze to the floor. He watched her, hoping she’d remove her clothes herself, tease him with his gift, and after several long seconds of standing motionless before him, she gave him his wish by inhaling deeply and raising her hands to push the soft white satin over her shoulders and arms, letting it fall to the floor.
Colin’s breath caught in his chest and he staggered back a foot or so to view her fully by firelight.
She was stunning—a seductive goddess barely concealed by a red satin corset and sheer black lace.
She kept her eyes closed, fisting her hands at her sides, and he had to wonder why she appeared so unsettled when he obviously desired her so much.
“You are more beautiful than my dreams of you, Lottie,” he whispered huskily, his mouth going dry.
She shook her head minutely, but he ignored the reason for such a reaction as he took ardent note of her near-perfect form, from her thick, silky hair that flowed over her shoulders and down her back, to the tips of her toes, which peeked out from under the feathers on her shoes.
His gaze settled momentarily on her exquisite breasts, firm and round, her nipples, taut from arousal, only vaguely discernable through the sheer black lace. Then with deliberate slowness, he followed the line of the corset where it tapered in at her waist before ending just below her navel, parting to the sides to offer him a luscious view of the triangle of light, curling hair that enticed him from between her firm, long legs.
“God, you’re perfect,” he breathed, his throat tight with need.
She still hadn’t opened her eyes, just silently trembled in front of him. Colin quickly unbuttoned his trousers and pushed them to the floor. Then he reached for her once more and pulled her against his nude body.
She gasped, but before she could protest or struggle, he captured her mouth again in a masterful, unrelenting kiss, coaxing her to abandonment, clutching her tightly so she couldn’t back away. She struggled for only a moment or two, then gradually succumbed again when he traced the tip of his tongue across her top lip, then delved deeply inside.
Her fast breathing fused with his as he took in the exquisite feel of her beneath the very provocative corset that grazed his sensitive skin, his erection boldly pressed into the satin that covered her belly. He cupped her head again with one hand while lowering the other to her lace-covered bottom, caressing her through it, letting his own fingers tingle from the sensation.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and began to kiss him back fervently, boldly daring him with a flick of her tongue on his, letting out a low moan when his hand reached under the lace and touched her directly at the crease of her thigh.
Colin didn’t think he’d ever felt such sudden, overwhelming lust for a woman in his entire life. He was, at long last, making love to the intoxicating woman who charged his fantasies, in his own bedroom, as her husband. She would never have another, and he would be the envy of all. The heady thought of being able to take her every night like this, appeasing his desire, nearly drove him to enter her now, standing, to relieve the ache that curled up tighter and tighter inside his body with each passing second.
Keeping his mouth locked with hers, he reached down and grabbed her behind one knee, swiftly lifting her leg so that it rested on his hip.
She abruptly pulled away from his kiss. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice gravelly, face flushed with dewy warmth.
Colin moved his lips to her neck, ignoring her question by instead letting her know exactly what he was about, through touch, by feel.
He gently sucked her soft, heated skin, and she instinctively lifted her head to allow him better access, her breath quickening again, a whimper escaping her. He nuzzled the silky valleys of her throat, drew his tongue across her jawline, lightly sucked her earlobe. Then without warning, he reached under her raised thigh and moved his fingers to the sensitive, innermost softness between her legs, first just grazing the curls with the tips, then growing bolder, moving deeper between the folds to touch her cleft, finding an abundance of her intimate moisture that slid through his fingers like warm honey.
She moaned—and he nearly climaxed.
“Jesus, Lottie…” he said through a fast, pained breath. “I can’t wait.”
“Please…”
He knew what she wanted, and he needed to give it to her now, before he completely embarrassed himself by coming too early and spilling himself on her bright, red satin corset.
In one smooth action, he lifted her, one arm at her waist, the other under the knee still resting at his hip, carrying her backwards until his calves brushed up against the seat of the settee behind him. He reclaimed her mouth in a heated kiss, doing nothing more until he felt her start to yield again to the passion. Then, clinging to her leg and firmly holding the back of her head so that she couldn’t break the contact of his lips against hers, he lowered the two of them as one onto the soft leather.
Startled, she gave a muffled shriek when she landed on his lap, then tried to jerk away from him when her hot, wet cleft touched the tip of his erection.
He held her tightly, fighting for his own control, refusing
to let her go as he deepened their kiss, flicking his tongue across hers, grabbing it, sucking it until she whimpered.
She gripped his shoulders so tightly she pinched the skin, only making him hotter, more desperate to be inside of her.
Her wetness smothered him; her lace-covered nipples teased his chest. Releasing her leg, he shifted his weight so that she straddled him, then he placed a palm on her breast, caressing for seconds, flicking his thumb across the nipple, then squeezing it gently, the lace scratching him exquisitely. She squirmed again; a low moan escaped her throat, and he didn’t think he could take the wait any longer.
In a reckless surrender, he grabbed her hips with both hands, pushing her up just enough to release his erection from beneath its warm heaven. Then he took the base of it in one hand as he finally broke their kiss.
He gazed at her beautiful face, noting her tightly shut eyes, relishing in her heavy breathing, the spark of desire she exuded as she licked her lips.
He gazed down the front of her, clothed by only a small piece of satin and lace, her intimate curls teasing the sensitive skin at the tip of his engorged member.
“I have to be—inside you, Lottie—” he said in a broken murmur, placing himself against her cleft, clenching his teeth in a painfully delicious effort to stay his release. He waited for several unending, agonizing moments—for her to say something, do something. She tensed her body as a tremble passed through her, but otherwise she held steady, eyes squeezed shut, biting down on her lower lip. He couldn’t take any more.
He began to guide himself up into her, pulling her hips down to meet his urgency. Immediately he felt a certain unfamiliar tightness, the barrier of her virginity, and for a second or two it disconcerted him. Then she gasped, whimpered, clung to him with her nails digging into his shoulders, and he was lost.
He came with such force, such intense pleasure, that he thrust up hard inside of her—once, twice, a hundred times. She cried out, attempting to pull away, but he held fast to her hips, clutching them with both hands, his head thrown back, his body bathed in perspiration as he drove himself into her, wanting her to experience the fullness of her own orgasm before he slowed his pace and dared loosen his grip.
She shuddered and he reached behind her, splayed his palm across her spine, and drew her against him, cradling her on his lap, his face in her hair, taking in the feel of her curves, the scent of her skin, while his breathing slowed, his heartbeat calmed.
He held her for a long time, and she didn’t make any attempt to move, or speak. She simply melted into him, reveling in the stillness, the closeness between them, as he did.
Finally, he felt himself sliding out of her, and with great reluctance, he placed his palms back on her hips, gently this time, and lifted her up to stand in front of him, noting with some humor that she still wore the ridiculous, high-heeled slippers he’d purchased for her.
“Let’s go to bed,” he whispered huskily as he rose beside her, a wave of sleepiness overcoming him.
Inhaling shakily, she turned to find her robe.
“Leave it,” he said, grabbing her hand. He pulled her along with him to his bed and she followed without comment, lying down on the cool sheets at his side after kicking off her shoes.
Colin drew the blankets over them. Then snuggling into her, his face in her warm neck, his hand crossing over her corseted chest to cling to her lace-covered breast, he drifted off into a blissful, peaceful slumber.
Chapter 8
Carlotte sat in Colin’s study, on the cushion-covered bench seat in front of her beloved pianoforte, staring at the keys through the thin veil of light streaming in from a street lamp outside. The room smelled faintly of tobacco, leather, and polished oak, distinctly masculine scents that irritated her because they spoke of him. She had to wonder if he put her pianoforte in his private study on purpose because he wanted her to be reminded of him every time she played.
It had to be nearly dawn, and yet she didn’t feel a bit tired. She felt restless, unable to sleep after what he’d done to her this night. He hadn’t stirred when she gingerly climbed out of his bed, and she prayed he’d stay that way for hours, dozing heavily, unaware of her absence. It shouldn’t be too difficult for him, she decided, as he’d clearly exhausted himself with her willing body, a thought that once more sent a tremor of shame coursing through her.
She no longer wore the indecent, scratchy, tight-fitting…costume he’d purchased for her. She’d practically ripped it from her body the moment she left his sleeping side, replacing it with her beautiful, hand-stitched nightgown and robe she’d so carefully selected for comfort and enticement on her wedding night.
My wedding night.
She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry at the absurdity of her current situation. Her head pounded, and she still felt the ache between her legs from a pain she had never anticipated. Why she thought a marital bedding would be a pleasant experience was beyond her imagination. Perhaps if love were involved in the union there would be a better…connection. She didn’t know. He seemed to enjoy himself, but she never wanted to go through such intimacy with her new husband again. At this point she didn’t even care about giving him an heir. She’d rather stay in England and perform than have to relive last night’s embarrassment anytime soon.
Blinking quickly to hold back tears of frustration, she reached out and placed a finger on middle C, then C and E, then the chord C, E, G, letting the notes quietly resonate. Always had her music soothed her nerves, and she wished it wasn’t the dead of night so she could actually play and sing to the rooftop.
“What are you doing in here?”
Startled at the unexpected interruption, she drew her hands from the keys and glanced over her shoulder, catching sight of him at the doorway, his figure in shadow. She swiftly turned back to the pianoforte, folding her hands primly in her lap, breathing deeply because as angry as she was right now, as confused as she felt, the sight of him still managed to heat the blood in her veins and she’d be appalled if he noticed.
“Charlotte?” he asked again. “Why are you sitting in here in the middle of the night?”
She supposed she had to answer him. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back a little. “I couldn’t sleep,” she replied, her voice sounding hoarse and distant to her ears.
After a long moment of silence, she heard a creak of the floorboards and his footsteps on the scattered rugs, and then seconds later, he lit a lamp on his desk. She lifted her lashes again to a brightened room, though she kept her gaze focused on the keyboard until he strode to her side and she couldn’t help but notice him.
He wore only his trousers, hands stuffed into the pockets, his marvelous chest naked for her view as if he had no shame at all. And as much as she wanted to slap herself for feeling a nervous heat permeate her cheeks, her only clear thought was how perfectly stunning he was to look at, his hair mussed, his sleepy eyes keenly fixed on her.
“I don’t suppose you came down here to practice at half past four in the morning,” he said, leaning his hip on the edge of the keys, his tone colored with amusement.
She sat straighter on the bench and did her best to ignore his stare—and the warmth emanating from his muscled form. Reaching for a stack of music to her left, she began to sift through it. “As I said, your grace, I couldn’t sleep. Since I’m still new to your home, I couldn’t think of any other place to go.”
He remained quiet for a moment or two, then after drawing a long breath and letting it out loudly, he sat on the bench beside her without any warning at all. She scooted over to give him room, realizing perfectly well that he wouldn’t budge even if she begged him to leave. Her only hope was that he’d grow tired of boring, brittle conversation and return to his bed on his own.
“Play something,” he said.
She could feel his eyes fairly caressing her face, which made her squirm inside, feel hot all over. But she didn’t dare look at him directly. Instead, she vowed to keep her manner wearisome.
“I really don’t want to wake the staff—”
“Oh, damn the staff,” he cut in, reaching up to brush her hair off her shoulder. “I want to hear you play. For me.”
She tried not to cringe from the intimate manner in which he spoke, from the way his fingers grazed her neck and made her skin tingle. “I think I’d rather go to bed now, sir,” she countered, attempting to stand.
He quickly grabbed her wrist to hold her down. “What’s wrong, Charlotte? Why did you leave me?”
Tightening her jaw for strength, resolute in her bearing, she finally turned to glare at him. “Honestly?”
“Honestly,” he replied, tipping his head to the side a fraction in curiosity.
She couldn’t stop her confession now. The wound had been opened. “I was a bit—no, I was thoroughly uncomfortable trying to fall asleep wearing a scratchy corset, sir.”
He blinked in surprise, eyeing her up and down as if noticing for the first time that she’d changed her attire. Then his gaze returned to her face as a slow, crooked smile spread across his mouth.
“I was hoping to bed you again, Charlotte,” he said mischievously, “but men tend to get…sleepy after such vigorous lovemaking. I wouldn’t have slept for very long, though, before the feel of you next to me stirred me back to life.”
Her forehead creased as she shook her head in amazement. “Are you insane, sir? Or just an idiot?”
For moments he did nothing. Then very, very gradually, he drew away from her, releasing her wrist, his features hardening before her eyes.
“I beg your pardon?” he charged in a husky whisper.
She snickered caustically, unwilling to look away from the stony planes of his handsome face. “Firstly, what we did wasn’t anywhere near the bed. Secondly, I’m quite sure there was no love involved since you could hardly contain yourself long enough to remember who you were with.”
Her bitterness, her forthright acknowledgment, absolutely stunned him—so much so he sucked in a breath through his teeth and jerked back as if scorched by her vehemence.
The Duke’s Indiscretion Page 9
